


Watercolours

by whirlmart



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), mcyt
Genre: Amnesia, And Dream, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Ghostbur, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, That's it, Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, Tommy is too, Tubbo Centric, fundy is rad, l'manburg, niki is rad, so is eret, that's the fic, tubbo gets amnesia and everyone cries for a bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27736567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whirlmart/pseuds/whirlmart
Summary: Despite the searing pain in his chest, Tubbo thinks the fireworks are beautiful. He wishes he could see them once more before his world is enveloped in darkness.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Floris | Fundy & Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 29
Kudos: 167





	Watercolours

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone! so sorry for the lack of uploading on my other book, i couldn't get this idea out of my head! i wanted to experiment with respawn functions
> 
> hope you enjoy!

It's the lights he sees before he's hit with a world of pain.

The reds, whites, and blues, all dancing together and streaming across each other like shooting stars. The yellow concrete is stiff as he is propelled backwards from the impact, his chest aching and burning with the powerful blow. Blood is pounding in Tubbo's ears as he looks up with half-lidded eyes to catch another glimpse of the colours.

 _"I'll make it as colourful and painless as possible,"_ He recalls Techno saying, before the first shot was taken.

Well, at least he had succeeded with one of those.

He can feel blood seep through his suit, a growing wetness expanding from where the firework had collided with him. Panic wells up, threatening to escape through the form of tears, his muddy brown eyes glassy. The sorrowful and slightly regretful expression of the pig in front of him reflects in his eyes as he breathes in deeply.

It takes a moment for Tubbo to realize that Technoblade's crossbow is still steadily aimed at him, ready to fire another shot at any moment. The boy doesn't know why the hybrid is hesitating; Tubbo would respawn after this death, he always did. Though he'd rather avoid the pain that came with death (not to mention how much it upset Tommy), he would respawn, and everything would be okay again.

But out of the corner of his eye, through the small cracks of the fence post, he sees someone unfamiliar. He sees a three-headed figure, wither skulls balanced on top of bones, its jaws snapping and crackling as it stares him down. The figure mutters something, and despite the extensive distance between them, Tubbo can hear its voice loud and clear, through the ruckus of the crowd below.

_"You're not coming back."_

The boy's blood ran cold at the four simple words. In any other scenario, he wouldn't have believed it.

But when you're on the edge of death, and the reassurance of respawning is stripped away by four words, you can believe anything.

Tubbo's head snaps towards the pig, who's crossbow was still aimed right in between his eyes, his finger pressing down on the trigger. The boy tries to scream for him to stop, to tell him what the strange creature had told him, but it comes out as a pitiful gurgle.

The second shot is fired, a whistle screams through the air, he can hear someone shout his name, panic welling up in his chest, and then;

Nothing.

The landscape is black and empty, the typical emptiness that comes with a respawn. The boy shuts his eyes, ready to return to the world, to spawn back in to his home, the land that he called his own. He hopes, prays that the creature who had haunted him in his final moments was lying.

But alas, nothing happened.

So he waited five minutes.

Nothing.

Ten minutes passed.

Nothing.

 _Please, please, please, let me go back,_ He begged internally, his heart beating faster and faster as he looked to stare at the blank abyss in all directions.

The boy stood up and paced around the area, looking down at his pale and dirtied hands. His chest tightened with a panic attack, tears welling up in his eyes as more time passed. Somewhere along the lines, he crumbled to the floor, his hands making contact with the unknown solid underneath him.

He crumpled in on himself, hugging his knees tightly to his chest and choking out sobs. Water slid down his face, the droplets leaving his cheeks and drifting upwards in to the abyss, floating above him. The boy wiped his face with the green sleeve of his shirt- _why was he wearing this shirt? Didn't he die in his suit?_

Tubbo swallowed the lump in his throat, the mesmerizing balls of water that had fallen from his eyes, now floating up, catching him in a trance. He lifted his finger to touch one, the wetness spreading on to his finger as he tried his best to fight back the tears that threatened to spill once again.

He always had Tommy, Wilbur even _Dream_ that would be with him during scary situations. Whether it was a nightmare, or something he needed to get of his chest, or worries, someone was always there for him, no matter what. During the war, he had a nation of people beside him.

But sitting in the blank abyss, his sobs the only noise to fill the silence, he realized something.

For once, he was truly, and utterly, alone.

* * *

_The moon rose above the swaying spruce trees, leaves tumbling from the foliage hanging above his head. The boy sat below the pointing branches of the tree, his back resting against the bark. It was their day of victory, the war finally over and independence finally theirs._

_But despite all of that, Tubbo was afraid._

_He should be celebrating, be smiling and laughing, and sleeping soundly in his bed, knowing that the war is over. Tubbo should be content._

_Is it selfish if he isn't?_

_The boy was more observant than most in L'manburg. They had won so much, but they had lost so much in the process, even if some of the losses weren't as visible as others. Sure, they had independence, but for just how long would Dream let them keep that independence? How long would it be until the next war, and then the next, and the next?_

_How many times would he have to see his friends fall victim to the next tyrant wielding a sword?_

_Even when they won, he saw how Wilbur had fallen from the happy man he once was, forever scarred by the war. He saw how Tommy would wake up in the middle of the night, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaming. He saw how Fundy would jump at the slightest noise, even if it was just the drop of a pin._

_Niki never quite lost her guilt over the loss of a soldier that she'd tried to heal, even Eret, the traitor, held remorse in his eyes. Tubbo was the only one who saw it, or at least was the only one to point it out._

_Tubbo almost jumped at the sound of boots crunching against the twigs and leaves, expecting the loud and boisterous voice that belonged to Tommy emit from the approaching person._

_He was surprised to be met by the man wearing a cracked, porcelain mask and a green hood._

_"Tubbo?" From the sound of Dream's voice, he seemed like he wasn't expecting to see Tubbo here either._

_The boy leapt up from the spot he was sitting, putting a good distance between the two. Even if the war was over, he never knew what Dream's intentions were. He assumed that that was why he wore a mask; to never reveal his next move._

_"Hey, I'm not here to cause a fight." Dream stated carefully. The boy looked to see if the other held any weaponry, where he was pleasantly surprised._

_Tubbo let out a breath, offering a small smile to the man, despite his worried mood._

_"Oh," he said lamely, relaxing, before following up. Confusion hung in his tone. "Why are you here, then?"_

_"I come in to the forest to relax. It's peaceful, isn't it?" The man turned to look at the trees surrounding them. It was nostalgic to Tubbo, being able to talk to Dream without having a weapon pointed at him. It reminded the boy of before the war, when all they had to worry about was bringing food home for the night._

_When Tommy and Tubbo could be kids._

_"It is," Tubbo murmured in response, coming to stand by Dream, even if he was a little bit cautious of the man still. A silence stretched between the two._

_"What's your favourite animal, Dream?"_

_The warrior turned to look at him before bursting out laughing. The man's laughter sparked Tubbo's own._

_"What?" Tubbo asked through fits of laughter._

_"I- I'm sorry, I was-" Dream interrupted himself with a wheeze, gripping Tubbo's shoulder as an anchor. The boy giggled in response, waiting for Dream to continue his sentence._

_"I was just- not expecting that," he chuckled quietly to himself, before turning to face his porcelain mask towards the boy. "My favourite animal is this kraken-like creature that I found on an adventure called a glow squid,"_

_The man then launched in to a conversation about why the squid he found was the best, and how he found it. The two shared stories of their adventures, back and forth, until the sun began to rise, silver lining crowning the hills._

_Tubbo felt like he could breathe again._

* * *

Tubbo didn't know how long it'd been since he'd last heard the sound of birds singing, or the feeling of sunlight on his skin. All he knew was that his mind was fuzzy, and his eyelids were heavy, and it reminded him of when Techno had killed him. The last firework, signifying his demise with the boom, the colours flashing in his face.

The boy wondered how everyone was taking it. Tommy would surely blame himself, he'd probably be wishing he were quicker, or that he hadn't let Tubbo on that stage in the first place. Techno would be shunned by all nations, but Tubbo wasn't upset with him. He wanted to tell him that.

Schlatt would drink it away, just like he did with the rest of his troubles. He'd probably dwell on it, but not for too long, as not to be eaten up by it. Quackity would try to make everyone smile with his jokes, but guilt would rear its head and bite him when nobody is near.

Fundy would shed a few tears, and try to move forward. Tubbo always admired his strength, and he just hoped that the fox would be able to keep Niki and Eret happy and protected while he was gone. They would be devastated over his final death, as would Tommy.

He didn't even want to think about how Tommy would react to his absence. The thought of the confident and determined boy broken over his death was too much for him.

And Wilbur?

The boy didn't know how Wilbur would react. The ex-president was a shell of what he once was, and Tubbo couldn't find comfort in his presence anymore. The man who inspired him, who won the war, was now a man who had lost it all, and during the process, lost himself.

 _Oh, how the mighty fall._ He mused.

"I heard there was a special place," Tubbo began to sing a tune to fill the silence, hoping to entertain himself. He needed to find something better to do than wallow in his pain if he was doomed to this existence. "Where men can go and emancipate,"

"The brutality and tyranny of their rulers.." He swayed back and forth slowly, eyes squeezed shut as he sang. His voice wavered slightly as a wave of emotion crashed in to him. "This place is real, you needn't fret,"

"With Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, fuck Eret," he smiled to himself. Eret was a redeemed man, at least in Tubbo's eyes, but the last line never failed to make him laugh.

"It's a very big, and not-so-blown-up L'manburg!" He imagined himself with his friends, before the election, before the war. When the world was calmer, and when they didn't need to fight each other to be happy.

"My L'manburg.. my L'manburg.." His voice softened, as he continued the lovely music.

By the end of the song, he couldn't remember the first verse.

* * *

_The stone walls of Pogtopia felt suffocating around the boy, the underground feeling a bit too narrow, the chains swinging above him clanking a bit too loud. Tubbo's tie felt awfully tight around his neck, as did his suit._

_He wasn't one for claustrophobia, but Pogtopia seemed to have a strange effect on him. The overall feel of the place made him jumpy and nervous, but Tubbo usually was those things nowadays._

_The sound of Wilbur's anxious muttering, followed by Tommy's shouting, reached his ears. The leader had shouted at Tubbo not long ago, accusing him of being a traitor, before being ushered away by Tommy. The other teen had cast him an apologetic look, but it wasn't enough to fix the damage Wilbur had made on his heart._

_Tubbo knew that Wilbur wasn't well, but it didn't make his words hurt less._

_Out of the corner of his eye, the boy spotted a certain pig striding towards him. The other's cape dragged against the stone floor elegantly, while the light of the lanterns reflected on the golden crown. Tubbo wondered how often he polished that thing._

_"I saw what happened," Techno began awkwardly, whilst Tubbo blinked owlishly up at the taller. The pig hybrid sighed, leaning on the wall beside the younger. "Walk?"_

_The teen hesitated for a moment, before nodding quietly. He hadn't spent a lot of time with Techno, but he guessed that this was a once in a blue moon type of thing. Technoblade wasn't someone known for being touchy-feely._

_They made their way out of the ravine, popping out through a door. Tubbo inhaled the fresh air, shutting his eyes in bliss, before exhaling softly. Techno gave the boy a small smile, before walking forward. The teen followed him, starting a conversation about his favourite flower._

_"-and that's why daisies are my favourite flower!" The boy finished. Techno hummed in acknowledgement, looking out at a grassy field._

_"What're you looking at?" Tubbo asked confusedly, while Techno pat him on the back, leaning down to his level._

_"Look, I know that Manburg's been pretty tough for you, but," he pointed over at an oak tree, a large hive hanging from a branch. "I found a hive. Heard ya liked bees, so.."_

_Tubbo gasped, looking at the pig beside him, thanking him vehemently, before racing through the grass. The calming hum of bees echoed around the teen, and he giggled when a bumblebee landed on his finger. "Hello, friend!"_

_Technoblade sat down in a small patch of grass, weaving some flowers through his fingers._

_It amazed the pig how he could catch little moments of joy like this._

_Maybe, it could stay like this for a while._

* * *

He was slipping away.

Tubbo could feel it. He could feel the memories he held so dearly to himself drifting off, a blank wall replacing it. It was like a tapeworm, eating through all of his memories, taking, taking, and taking, until there was nothing left.

Hell, the boy had even forgotten what he looked like.

He lay flat on his back, shutting his eyes once more, digging, and digging, trying to unearth the memories that are buried under the blank wall. However, it was no use. His head ached when he tried to remember, a splitting feeling pulsing through his skull.

Tubbo was cold. He shivered and trembled, the cold running deep through his bones and his blood. He tried to remember again, crying out at the instant pain, reminding him of a defense system. There's one name that he remembers vividly, one he doesn't think that he could forget.

_Tommy._

He doesn't want to forget Tommy. He doesn't want to forget the memories that he shared with the boy, the history that they have together. What did he do to deserve this awful, awful fate? He would never wish this on anyone, not even his worst enemy.

He wished he could've spent a little longer with Tommy. He wished he could've listened to one more music disc, played one more prank, fooled around one more time. Maybe they could meet again some day, where they could just be two kids.

How Tubbo wished that they had run away sooner. Maybe then, this wouldn't have happened. Maybe death wouldn't have come in the form of a firework.

Tubbo doesn't have much time to dwell on it, because he can feel another wave of cold flush over him washing away his warmth, and the good, the bad, and the sad memories. The awfully familiar fuzziness begins in his head once more.

_Listening to a music disc at the bench-_

_Tubbo laughing in a box as carrots are thrown at him-_

_Passing his pufferfish on to Tommy-_

All of the thoughts in his head stopped, and when he tried to remember what he was just thinking of, he drew a blank.

Another wave arrives quicker than most, and just like that, it's gone. Everything he knew, gone.

_What is my name?_

The boy wonders to himself. He doesn't know if he cares or not.

* * *

A while passes when the boy sees a figure in the distance. The figure is small, but that's only because it's far away. The teen is pretty sure that the figure would be taller if it came closer to the boy, if he knew anything about proportions.

He notices the bright yellow sweater in constrast to the grey skin and hair the stranger is sporting, and the boy looks down at his hands to check if he's grey. Nope, not grey.

However, a thought whizzed through his blank mind.

_Since when was there anyone else here?_

The teen couldn't remember if anyone else had passed through before. He knew that this place was mostly quiet, and he'd been there for a very, very long time. Maybe he'd been here his whole life.

The stranger looks around, clearly disorientated, before turning his attention to the boy who was sitting up and staring curiously at him. The teen takes notice on how the stranger staggers back like he had been hit, hands clasping over his mouth.

Yellow-sweater is shouting something, but he's too far away for the boy to hear.

 _That's okay,_ the teen thinks, humming to himself. _Take your time._

It's not long before the stranger is close to him, nearly ten feet away from the boy. The teen looks up curiously at the other, muddy brown eyes shining with a strange innocence.

" _Tubbo?_ " Yellow-sweater says, but the teen doesn't pay any mind. It seemed like Yellow-sweater didn't know English that well.

When the boy doesn't respond, the stranger waved his hand in front of his eyes. The teen looked up and tilted his head once again.

"Tubbo?" Yellow-sweater repeats, and the teen sighs in slight annoyance.

"I don't know what that means." The teen explains, and he watches with mild discomfort as the stranger lets out a shaky exhale.

They're quiet for a while, one of the two standing in shock, and the other one avoiding this awkward situation. Yellow-sweater is the one who breaks the silence.

"Do you.. know who I am?" Yellow-sweater points at himself, and the boy shakes his head, meeting his gaze. Alarm flares up in the teen when he sees the stranger's expression.

"N-No, I'm sorry, am I, uhm.. am I supposed to?" The teen's voice is meek when he speaks to the stranger. He notices how the other's hands clench and unclench in anxiety and stress. He wonders if he's the one who caused this stress.

"We know each other. I'm Wilbur, and you're Tubbo," Wilbur's voice is soft and mournful, but the boy doesn't know why. 

_How does he know my name when I don't know my name myself?_

"Are you a wizard?" He asks Wilbur when the man comes to sit down beside him. He can see Wilbur's bewildered expression, before the man answers carefully.

"No, why?"

"Because you know my name. I don't know my name."

Wilbur holds his breath for a moment, before exhaling a sigh. Another long silence stretches between the two, but Tubbo is the one to break the silence this time.

"Can.. can I hug you?" Tubbo asks quietly. Wilbur almost misses the request.

He doesn't say a word, instead, he wraps the boy up in his arms and squeezes him tight. Tubbo doesn't notice the tears streaming down his face until Wilbur's yellow sweater is damp. 

For the first time in a long, long time, Tubbo finally falls asleep.

* * *

When the boy wakes up, his breath is frozen, and Wilbur is gone.

He cries for a while, cries until the tears do not slip down his face any longer, cries until his chest aches and his throat is raw. Tubbo pulls his knees to his chest, and he sobs.

 _Is that what people do?_ Tubbo asks himself. _Do they leave at the first chance they get?_

He doesn't know the answer, but he feels a wave of emotion crash through him. Wilbur is gone, Tubbo is alone, and he feels so _cold._ His heart _hurts_ and he wants to run away. No matter where he goes, he knows that he's not going to see anything else than this blank, empty void.

The teen liked the sweater that Wilbur wore, before he left. The yellow was pretty to him, and Tubbo thinks that it might be his favourite colour. Well, it's the only colour he's seen in a while, other than the green of his shirt and his pale skin. It's different, and he likes the difference.

But now Wilbur is gone, and he won't be able to see the pretty yellow ever again.

 _It's okay,_ Tubbo tries telling himself. _He'll be back._

The boy repeated that in his mind like a mantra, focusing on the one hope that Wilbur would return. The man didn't seem like the type to just _leave._ He seemed like quite a pleasant man, from the short time that Tubbo knew him.

He even knew Tubbo's _name_.

The hope burned brightly in his chest, in his eyes, and the boy felt warmth flow through him, extinguishing the cold in his bones.

So, he waited.

For some reason, waiting felt familiar to Tubbo. Like he'd been doing it for a long, long time. Waiting felt like he was reunited with an old friend, but it felt bitter, awful.

As time passes, the hope that burned brightly in his chest dampens, and the light isn't as bright as more. He listens for Wilbur's voice, any sign of the man.

He comes up short.

More time passes, and Tubbo is laying on the ground, curled and shivering. He doesn't know why he feels so _cold,_ or why the warmth was leaving him. His frozen breath entertains him as he trembles and shivers, the breath lifting upwards away from him.

It doesn't take long for the hope to dissipate, snuffed out by the cold that engulfed him. He imagines he looks awful in this state, like oil encased in shards of ice.

Briefly, Tubbo wonders if he's dying. He wonders if this is the end of the line. After living in this abyss for his whole existence, (at least that's what he thinks) he wonders if he's seen all life's wanted him to see. 

The boy isn't sure if he minds death.

He can feel his eyelids become heavier, and he can see frost climb up his fingers. He's cold, and it feels awful, and for a brief moment, he feels panic. The panic doesn't last long, because soon, all he can feel is the chill surrounding him. The cold strikes deep in to his soul, and his throat is dry and it _hurts._

Tubbo takes one last look at the dark abyss, cracking a small, pained smile, but it's genuine. He thinks he's ready to go, if that's what life intended for him. Maybe it wasn't the best life, but it was _his._

Right before he closes his eyes, he sees a crack of light through the dark abyss.

When he tries to open them again, he finds that he can't.

* * *

The first scent that drifts in to his nose is familiar, and it's strong. Tubbo thinks the smell is pleasant, before he realizes; _oh wait, I can smell things._

The boy's eyes are screwed shut, his heart racing in his chest. There's a soft and pointy texture underneath him, and hesitantly, he brushes the texture underneath him with his hand. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up with all of the new smells, feelings, textures. It's all new to the boy, and he isn't quite sure if he should open his eyes or not.

 _Is this death?_ He ponders. He was almost one-hundred percent sure that he had died in the blank abyss he had previously resided in. Freezing to death was an interesting experience that he would _not_ like to repeat.

The temperature is the biggest difference that Tubbo notices. Instead of the cold that he had felt throughout his entire being, he felt _warm._ It reminded him of when he had hugged Wilbur, but when he had hugged Wilbur, he felt warm inside. The warmth he was experiencing was on his skin rather than his soul.

He still felt quite cold in his soul.

Tubbo held his breath as he tried to work himself up to opening his eyes. There were really no downsides of seeing what was here for him, so why was he so afraid?

_It feels wrong._

He's not quite sure why it feels wrong, but it does. He can feel his mind quarrel with his longings, fighting over whether he should open them or not. So far, there was nothing that hurt him here, so he shouldn't be afraid.

In the end, his longings win, and he cracks his eyes open the slightest bit. The first thing he sees is a sliver of white, and yellow, and blue above him, with little streaks of dark green. He was blown away at even the slightest glimpse of colour, after staring at a black abyss for all of his life. The blotches of colour reminds him of oil pastels.

So he opens them a little bit wider, and a little bit wider after that, and it doesn't take long until his eyes are wide open.

The sun blared in his eyes, and with a startled shriek, his eyelids fell over his sensitive eyes, and his world was enveloped in darkness again.

But he tries again, more hesitant and careful this time, and his breath catches in his throat at what he sees once his eyes adjust to the lighting.

Spruce trees, the dark leaves and branches waving in the slight breeze, with green blades of grass swaying softly as the sunlight lined them with gold and silver. Flowers are bright in the field, the blues, reds, whites, and yellows looking absolutely magnificent together. He can smell a familiar scent, and as he turns his head, it's stronger.

He props himself up on his elbows, following the scent and turning his head to look at steady trails of honey leaking from a large nest. Tubbo isn't quite sure what the nest is, nor is he quite sure how he can recognize this place, but right off the bat, he can feel a connection to it.

Tubbo reaches out to touch the strange structure, but he instantly recoils are the sound of buzzing. He stumbles backwards, putting distance between himself and the nest. The noise was small, but it was new.

An insect buzzed towards the boy, and he almost jumped backwards to avoid the bug. He watched as the fuzzy thing landed on a tulip, minding its own business. Tubbo inhaled gently, as not to scare the little creature away.

_Bumblebee._

The word appeared in his head, seemingly out of thin air. A relaxed joy ran through him at the simple word, and he felt his tensed muscles begin to untighten, as if the word had some sort of calming affect on him.

The bumblebee turned to face him, fluttering its wings as it propelled itself towards the boy. Tubbo held his finger out for the little insect to sit on, which it happily did. A smile carved its way on Tubbo's face.

He cleared his throat, though his mouth felt like it was full of sand. "He-" the boy began, but it came out as more of an uneven gurgle than anything else. Tubbo hadn't used his vocal cords in quite a while.

Despite that, he tried his best to speak to the little fuzzy bumblebee.

"He-..hell-hello.. frien-d!" His tone was pitchy, his voice would crack, but he had gotten the message across. The bumblebee walked along his hand for a few more minutes in response, before returning to its humble duties. Tubbo respected the bumblebee for being so organized and determined.

Tubbo didn't know how long he had sat there, playing with the bees, looking at all of the colour around him. All he knew was that his back was sore by the time he was done from being hunched over, and he hunger strike him.

_Well, that was new._

In the abyss, he hadn't experienced hunger or thirst. This would take some getting used to.

The teen pushed himself off of the grass reluctantly, bidding his farewells to his fuzzy friends, and struggling to his feet. The first thing he realized when he tried to stand up was; one, it didn't seem like he had used his legs in a while. Two, his legs hurt and burned. Three, with the added movement, Tubbo realized that _yeah,_ his face, chest, and body _kinda hurt as well._

Not long after, he realizes that he is wearing a suit, and that his suit is very much scorched and torn apart on one side, and just torn on the other.

_Huh._

When he looked back to where he was previously sitting, he noticed the crimson liquid slipping down on to the grass in a steady trail, leading straight up to him.

_Oh._

In the distance, Tubbo notices the large structures behind a forest, Chinese lanterns floating in the air. _Pretty,_ He thinks, but when he steps forward, he is quickly reminded of the sharp, relentless and burning pain engulfing the half of his body.

_I should probably get some help._

So, he sets off towards the structures, hoping that there was at least _someone_ there to help him. He knew what true loneliness felt like, and he hoped that this place was different from the abyss.

He hoped that he wouldn't be alone anymore.

* * *

His first impression of the town is a nice one, Tubbo thinks.

He hasn't seen a town before, but he thinks that this one is probably the prettiest. It has a big, gaping crater underneath a spruce platform, but Tubbo just assumes that all towns are like that. It's not like he has anything else to go off of.

The town feels familiar to him, but unfamiliar in a way. It feels new, but aged. He doesn't know why, but a feeling of dread falls over him when he sees the crater. _All towns have craters, right?_

There's no one that he'd seen here yet, no one to help him and his wounds. He feared the worst, quickly writing it off as another realm where he would be alone, until he inevitably passed away once again.

He figures he might as well explore, since this was very likely his final night alive. If the wound didn't kill him, something else probably would. Maybe the bumblebees would, Tubbo didn't know them too well.

The boy noticed how beautifully the lanterns in the sky were crafted; whoever made them must have been an expert. They had guided him to the town.

Once he's explored all he's needed to explore in this part of the town, he continues along his merry way. Tubbo notices how significantly he'd slowed since the beginning when he had just started walking. _No matter._

His boots tapped against the spruce path, followed by a trail of blood. If there was anyone here, he would feel bad for them, as they would have to clean up the mess that he'd made. _Oh, Tubbo, being a bother when you've just been reborn._

When he travels further up the path, he comes along a house of stone, smoothed out. A pang of nostalgia hits him like a truck, but he can't place his finger on why he feels this nostalgia. Maybe he's feeling something different, and he's just awful at reading his own emotions.

Tubbo's brown eyes land on a bench, and the feeling of nostalgia grows stronger. Beside it, there's a tree, standing tall above the bench. Beside it, Tubbo notices a cobblestone structure, looking off in the distance.

_A grave._

He didn't know how he knew that, he simply did.

The boy limped up to the bench, ignoring the faint sound of music that echoes in his ear (though none is playing), and leans against it, staring off at the forest. A frown spread across his face at the sight of the now-bloodied bench.

He sat there for five, ten, fifteen minutes, before looking down at the cobblestone grave. There are flowers around it, daisies tied in to a bouquet with a card that says "Techno" on it (he feels a jolt of fear and nostalgia at the name, but he ignores it), and several flowers laying around it. There's a music disc, it's purple with white dots on it.

What catches his eye is the name.

**Tubbo**

_The boy who was going to change the_ _world._

Tubbo's chest tightens, and he feels tears well up in his eyes. Questions speed by through his head, he can only focus on the name engraved on the gravestone.

Surely there was another Tubbo- _was Tubbo a generic name here? That would explain it._

Part of him knew deep down, so far buried, that that was him.

He didn't have much time to dwell on it, though, because his vision had began to blur, and the noises around him were muffled. It felt like he was swimming underwater.

There's a woman's voice behind him, calling his name.

_"T-bbo?"_

He hears her running towards him, the sound of her shouting something else, and he can hear more people rush to the scene. Black snakes danced across his vision, and he knew that he shouldn't give in, but..

In the end, the snakes were fed.

In the end, the snakes would always get fed.

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY OKAY
> 
> so i know i have a lot of explaining to do
> 
> but i wanted to tell you that Tubbo is not dead! next chapter will be a continuation of this one, and i do have a plan for the third chapter.
> 
> so, here are my plans for the future of this story:
> 
> chapter two: continuation of chapter 1  
> chapter three: tommy's perspective
> 
> this book will be three parts! excited to start the next chapter!


End file.
